A Life Was Lost Tonight
by Saihitei Seishuku
Summary: The Konan Palace was where he confessed his affection to the Priestess, and became his final resting place when blood was spilled in the name of love... Tamahome vs. Hotohori


Disclaimer: I Do not own Fushigi Yuugi, Moulin Rouge, or any other references to both masterpieces. The only thing I own is this story, which is protected by copyright.

I thank you, readers, for not forcing me to chain myself to my chair to type up stories. As for "Gotta Be Somebody For Me" that's on hiatus. I don't know when I will be around to work on it again.

So enjoy reading this piece instead. Remember, the more reviews I get, the more willing I am to upload more fics.

**If you do review, I have to ask that you do not critique this or any of my other fics. Please respect my wishes as a writer. Thank you muchly. :) --Saihitei**

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A Life Was Lost Tonight.

"Miaka, stay in here until I have dealt with this, am I clear? Do not open this door for anyone!"

"Hotohori!"

"Don't worry, I'll be back soon."

The once gentle sparkle in the emperor's eyes grew dark as all trace of kindness and control was thrown aside. His fingers wrapped themselves around the hilt of the blade he held, the trembling of his wrist making the metal clink noisily inside the ornate scabbard. He would tolerate this no more.

_First, there is…desire!  
Then…passion!  
Then…suspicion!_

"Tamahome…"

_Jealousy! Anger! Betrayal!_

"How much longer?"

_Where love is for the highest bidder, there can be no trust._

"Just how much longer?"

_Without trust, there is no love!_

His breaths quickened, chest tightening. The kind of anger that almost makes one ill with hatred.

_Jealousy! Yes, jealousy! Will drive you… mad!_

"Will you hurt Miaka until you're satisfied?!" His voice roared, echoing against the hallways. How dare that bastard do this to her? The tears, the blood on her arm. How much more injury could her heart take? He felt like retching. The anger shook in his chest and made his stomach turn.

"Miaka,"

Hotohori strode into the open air. The rain formed spots on his white tunic and dampened his chestnut mane. But he did not care if it marred his appearance.

"I won't forgive anyone who hurts you, no matter who it is! Even one whom Heaven has fated to be my friend."

_Roxanne,  
You don't have to put on that red light.  
Walk the streets for money.  
You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right._

"Hotohori! Open this door! Please!" The priestess slammed her fists against the door. Blood began to trickle down her knuckles and between her fingers.

_Roxanne,  
You don't have to wear that dress tonight.  
Roxanne,  
You don't have to sell your body to the night._

"Don't do this… You don't have to do this!"

But Hotohori never heard the pleas of the woman he loved. Suzaku's flames enveloped him as he walked down the stairs to face his comrade. No, he was no longer his comrade. Not after what he did. He couldn't find it in his heart to forgive him now.

His ears picked up the sound of the warrior's voice. Once filled with love, it was replaced with the chill of a closed heart.

"Where is the Priestess of Suzaku?!"

"Tamahome!" Hotohori's pace quickened. Suzaku only knew how much he desired to kill him here and now. To retaliate for the pain and heartbreak he put Miaka through. Was it jealously that had claimed the young emperor's gentle heart?

He had restrained himself so many times, to not let the primal beast in his soul possess him. He had been civil, unmoved, and calm. But how could Miaka love a man that continuously made her cry? How could she love someone who did nothing but cause her pain?

_His eyes upon your face,  
His hand upon your hand,  
His lips caress your skin…  
It's more than I can stand!_

Both warriors did not falter their gazes. Slate bore onto gold. Their stares spoke of something that lay dormant in every man's heart. Bloodlust…and revenge.

Hotohori flicked his wrist and the scabbard flew from his fingers. Amongst the tapping of raindrops came the clattering of metal.

"You take up that weapon there!" The emperor called out. He quickly drew the decorated sword from his hip. "I will not do battle with an unarmed opponent!"

Tamahome's lips curved upwards, taunting his opponent. He heard Nakago's words in his brainwashed state. Kill the Priestess of Suzaku, as well as Fourth Emperor Saihitei… Suzaku Seishi Hotohori.

And to Hotohori himself it was difficult to believe that this man was once his own comrade and friend. He still wondered why Miaka chose Tamahome over him. He had given her nothing but love and comfort. He had hoped she would be the one to save him from his loneliness.

And yet…

And yet she chose this traitor over him. She chose the one that would keep wounding her heart and not the man that would mend it and kiss away her pain.

Why?

_(Roxanne)  
Why does my heart cry?  
(Roxanne)  
Feelings I can't fight  
You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me  
And please, believe me when I say I love you…_

The young emperor of Konan could feel his shoulders tremble as he clutched the hilt in his palms. He could remember her small fragile body against his chest. Her soft lips and hands when he held the priestess in his arms.

Something rolled down his cheek, mixing in with the raindrops that fell on his face.  
But he ignored it. The rage had risen to a fever pitch once more.

"I will never let you lay one finger on Miaka again!"

And the warriors kissed with silver tongues. They swung madly in a blur, sparks thrown into the dampened air. It was like watching an exotic dance taking place in the center of the palace grounds. All that could be heard was the rhythm of one blade against another and the tapping of boots against the stone dancefloor.

On and on they danced. One twirl after another; more sparks erupting from their weapons. And the notes of spilled blood came into the choreography and formed the melody of a tango of death.

The priestess' screams went unheard when her ears picked up the commotion and battle cries of the men that fought for her life. One of them would die on this night. Once comrades and fellow warriors, they had become nothing more than simple-minded beasts in the throes of revenge.

"Hotohori…Tamahome… They'll be killed! Suzaku, please stop this!"

Another tear in the emperor's white tunic sent more crimson fluid splattering onto the ground. His chest heaved as the warm trickling of royal blood ran freely from his wounds. He could feel his strength ebbing away with every heartbeat, even if it was at a slow pace.

But he couldn't surrender now. He would much rather continue protecting the priestess he loved so dearly even if it cost him his life.

Hotohori leapt forward again, locking both eyes and blade with Tamahome's own.

"Tamahome, have you really forgotten your place here in Konan and just how much Miaka has meant to you?!"

The traitor's eyes widened for a moment, then changed back to match the sneer on his lips as he let out an angered snarl. Tamahome pulled back his sword and gave an aimless swing.

"Talk sense!"

The sword had managed to connect with Hotohori's chest, creating a large gash in his torso and almost sending him to the ground. His face and body were covered in bloodstains, but he fought on, the mark of the sea serpent glowing brightly on his neck. He would not give up to Tamahome. He would fight him to the death and claim his life before he got the chance to harm Miaka again.

As the warriors fought, Nuriko and Chiriko could only watch the horrifying spectacle before them, knowing there was nothing they could do to stop the fighting and bloodshed.

"Those two look like they really want to kill each other! Shouldn't we try to stop them?" Chiriko gripped his flute tightly in his hands.

"Impossible. Can't you see it?" Nuriko didn't shift his gaze for a minute as he watched the battle. "Can't you see the intensity of His Majesty's life force?"

Another bellow of rage echoed through the corners of the palace courtyards.

"A man who is normally so gentle… Its destiny and nothing can stop them. Not until one of them is ultimately defeated by the other!"

More and more bloodstains began to appear on the stone floors, mixing in with the rain. Tamahome seemed to be gaining the upper hand, using both his sword and hands to inflict damage on his opponent. Hotohori had already suffered many cuts all over his body, and trickles of red dripped down his forehead and at the corner of his mouth. The symbol on his neck began to fade, and he now fought to keep standing.

His golden eyes closed for a long moment, trying to keep it together. He wouldn't lose, he wouldn't. He couldn't let Tamahome win this battle, he couldn't let him harm the priestess any longer.

**Suzaku…give me strength!**

The emperor tensed, gathering all his remaining energy for another attack. The mark of Suzaku glowed again, and he rushed forward and aimed his sword above Tamahome's skull. If he failed, he was sure he would be killed. He was using the last remains of his strength for this. And he couldn't turn back now.

But he didn't expect to see the Priestess of Suzaku from the corner of his eye, running towards them.

"Miaka!" Hotohori cried out, he skidded against the rain and blood soaked ground, his head turned towards the flash of pink and brown.

"Now you die."

_(Roxanne)  
Why does my heart cry?  
(Roxanne)  
Feelings I can't fight  
(Roxanne)  
You don't have to put on that red light  
Roxanne!_

The last things that were heard on this night was the rumble of thunder, the clattering of metal on stone, and the mournful cry of a phoenix as the blood of royalty was spilled in the name of love.

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